


Psalms

by Artpop



Category: Priest (2011)
Genre: Abuse, M/M, Manipulation, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-19 23:20:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4764761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artpop/pseuds/Artpop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the dark depths of Mira Sola, Priest is at the complete mercy of Black Hat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Psalms

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted to my FanFiction.net account under the pseudonym "May the rain be damned" in 2011. Here is a reworked version.

Black Hat trails a rough hand down those smooth plains of muscle, curving his fingers over warm skin. The strongest vampire hunter, shivering under him – it's almost too good to be true, he thinks, satisfaction thrumming in his ears like a heartbeat. Priest is all sinewy muscle and quivering belly, and Black Hat just _loves_ it, because he's none of those things.

He's better.

Priest groans because his hands are bound tightly behind him and everything is so blurry and out of focus. He can feel the hole in his shoulder burn dully with each shift. Black Hat only laughs – amused – when Priest looks into his eyes and anger rears up, wrath searing in his gaze, "Where is Lucy?" His voice is hoarse and low, just enough for Black Hat to hear.

"Safe," he replies, lips curling over sharp, white teeth, "for now.”

Then Priest is lunging at him, hissing and struggling like a wounded animal, "Where?”

"I will return her if you join me," he says silkily, pressing the man harder against the stone altar, "Together, we could save this world.”

Priest doesn't react. His face betrays no emotion, save for the cold stare – not even when Black Hat presses a crimson vial to his lips and asks him to drink. Priest twists his head away violently. Black Hat has anticipated resistance; he knows what to do. Tipping the vial of the Queen's blood into his mouth, he lets the sweet liquid sit heavy on his tongue and delights at the one instant moment of confusion on Priest's face. Then he roughly grabs his ex-brother, fingers pinching his nose close.

At first, Priest looks stricken – he's not daft, he knows what's going on – but he won't open his mouth, eyes smoldering with rebellion, jaw dead set. Black Hat lowers his face and lets his lips run lightly over Priest's cheek, and he can see the man falter slightly, whether it be because of the lack of air or otherwise.

Then Priest gasps, back arching as he greedily sucks in air, because his lungs are aching and burning and his vision is starting to darken. Black Hat seizes the opportunity, sealing his lips against the other, feeling almost giddy as a desperate, throaty sound echoes below him and he moves his mouth against the unwilling Priest in feigned passion. His eyes are dilated, glowing golden in the sparse moonlight and they say: swallow, Priest, swallow – because if you don't, you'll die.

And another set of eyes convey only one thing: no, no, _no_.

Black Hat quickly snakes a hand up to keep Priest's jaw closed as he withdraws his mouth, wiping away the thin strand that connects them. He waits there, watching as Priest struggles, retching. But finally, he slackens his grip.

A wet smack. Then Black Hat really has to watch his temper as he rears back, wiping the spit out of his eye, "Know your place, filthy priest.”

"My place is with God," he replies. Priest is pressed flushed against him and the altar and his shirt torn open and he's panting, mouth open with saliva and blood trailing from his lips to pool beneath him. Black Hat hisses, pupils dilating in anger – and perhaps something else. He dips his fingers into the rest of the liquid in the vial and tosses it over his shoulder where it lands with a sharp sound, which echoes though Mira Sola. He runs those blood-soaked fingers over Priest's lips, coating them in a deep crimson.

Black Hat feels him stiffen when he presses those fingers against the curve of his mouth, forcing entry, "Open up, or I can't promise _her_ safety,” Slowly, he feels muscle go slack and he's able to run his fingers against Priest's teeth and tongue and it's so hot, like a human, like something he once knew.

The man gazes at him through half-lidded eyes, following his movements sluggishly. He presses the fingers farther into his mouth and Priest gags slightly, teeth closing instinctively. "Don't even try," he growls. Black Hat withdraws the slick fingers, letting them linger a bit before he tears at the front of Priest's trousers. That's when the man struggles again.

"Brother, no," he cries. Then those fingers are in him, violently thrusting and stretching and everything hurts and for one brief second, he feels like God has abandoned him. Black Hat smirks at the growing hardness between his thighs, pushing his legs apart to allow him better access. Priest groans, he can't tell if it's a groan of pain or of something else entirely. "H – hearken unto the voice of my cry, my King, and my God," he begins, shaking in earnest. Black Hat looks up and removes his fingers, but says nothing. Priest is dizzy now, "for unto thee will I pray. My voice shalt thou hear in the morning, O Lord –“

Black Hat laughs out loud at his perfect timing, "Yes," he hisses around the burning tightness, "I am your Lord." Priest chokes up, straining to keep his voice down. It hurts. The vampire thrusts a few time into the quivering body beneath him, but it's not enough; he wants Priest to feel what he felt all those years ago. Hooking his arms under muscled thighs, he quickly flips their positions, letting Priest settle neatly onto his lap.

A loud groan pierces the hive walls. The pressure is off of his bound hands, but the change forces Black Hat deeper into him. He's involuntarily shaking now, fear and pain and guilt caging his heart. For a minute, both of them are dead silent. Priest, scrambling to soothe his sanity, and Black Hat, who only continues to run a deceptively gentle hand down his back.

"Well?" Black Hat asks huskily, his words a hot breath against his ear, "Show the Lord your devotion." And the meaning is not lost on Priest.

"No," he replies firmly, though he jerks when hands grab hold of his hips and lifts him up, a slick obscene sound as Black Hat scrapes against him, “… wait,” he swallows. The bruising grasp is relinquished and he pushes himself slowly down, flinching at the sensation. Slow and haltingly, Priest lowers and raises himself on weak legs – he doesn't know where to look, up and ahead is the face of his brother, down and below is the unraveling of his sanity.

Black Hat, finally tired of the half-hearted, shallow thrusts, slams those smooth, milky hips down, grinding against the other man. A smothered sob drowns out his grunt of pleasure, and he takes the initiative and pries him even further apart, pounding into the spasming Priest with uncontrollable appetite. The vampire hunter slumps on him, head resting – lolling – prettily on his shoulder. A pale, slender column of neck, all smooth white skin, catches his eyes. He can't help but run an elongated fang down it and quietly licks up the trail of blood that wells up.

He can hear Priest mumbling again, "…thou art not a God that hath pleasure in wickedness…" He pounds harder into the body, twisting himself inside with a final thrust.

He withdraws himself from Priest. "Neither shall evil dwell with thee; Psalms five: four,” Black Hat finishes.

He none too gently lays his Priest back onto the stone altar. He is sated now, because he knows he's won when he softly traces his ex-brother's desire, a hitched breath the only indication he's still alive, because he's lying there so still and so stunning, like a Greek statue and not like a violated human man. "I'm sorry, brother," Priest murmurs.

Black Hat chuckles amusedly, stepping away and into the shadow of day. “Amen."


End file.
